


Redefining You

by wordswithinmoments



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Beaches, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kozume Kenma & Kuroo Tetsurou Friendship, Love Triangle, Pining, Pining Miya Atsumu, Reader-Insert, Tattoos, Travel, Unrequited Love, the last part is a poem tho that's just kind of an extra, three part with epilogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24888022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordswithinmoments/pseuds/wordswithinmoments
Summary: The three times in your life you come to a conclusion that you love Tetsurou, and the fourth where you finally will yourself to say it. A redefinition of love, that came to you in fragments. (Second chapter is the sequel! Third is the epilogue)
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou & Reader, Kuroo Tetsurou/Reader, Miya Atsumu & Reader, Miya Atsumu/Reader
Comments: 38
Kudos: 315





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm finally posting this in ao3, but I have most of my works posted in my tumblr (myelocin)  
> Hope I connect and interact with a community here, but until then, here is a story that is near and dear to my heart.

The first time the thought came to you was at age 13. You didn’t know what love was, never really felt it before, but as you stared at the way he hid behind his bangs and shuffled closer to his black jacket- you felt it. The first tap on your heart, first flutter of the butterflies, and the first kisses of an oncoming blush blooming onto the apples of your cheeks.

At thirteen, Kuroo Tetsurou said his hellos through cheeky smiles and light laughter. When he didn’t have volleyball, he’d be seated next to you in your orchestra class sharing a music stand, and engaging in small talk. He scoffed at your weird jokes, but he looked straight at you when you talked about your day. You remember thinking about him in the school bus on the way home.

In him, you saw happiness. Felt it even. During movie “dates” where the two of you watched _Bridge to Terabithia_ while video calling at one in the morning because _actual dates_ at the movie theater weren’t allowed by your mom just yet. Now, in your older years, you still often think back to those moments and laugh to yourself at how you turned beet red at Tetsurou typing _‘ur cute.’_ on the chat box.

And so at thirteen years old, though still innocent towards the idea of love, through your own definitions you decided that the only explanation was that you loved him. And so love him you did.

-

The second time was four years later. You had moved abroad after your mother’s passing, and hadn’t really thought about the boy with the seemingly eternal bedhead. You flowed into your new routine quite easily despite the stark difference in culture and environment. At this point, though you still had moments where your thoughts ghosted over Tetsurou, you concluded it to be the stage where it had become just a funny memory.

Except, of course, there was that one vacation your dad forced you to go on (it being his hometown), the one where you _literally knew nobody_ and didn’t speak a word of the dialect, in some weird turn of event you found yourself pressing the call button next to his name. Long story short, there was a _really_ awkward conversation about why you were calling him at five in the morning but he eventually cracked a joke that was _so like him_ , that the conversation with him just flowed naturally afterwards. 

A call turned into two, and then before you knew it, despite on standing in the opposite sides of the world, a deeper friendship between the two of you grew. Phone calls between the two of you became a regular fixture of your day, something that you eventually looked forward to. Still keeping in contact with the same group of friends you and Tetsurou grew up with, sometimes it felt like you never left at all. You found out that he eventually left orchestra and instead devoted his time to the volleyball team in his highschool along with Kenma. It seemed like a natural choice for him to leave. After all, you saw him often scowl at the orchestra teacher during breaks.

At seventeen, you had that feeling again. You felt the familiar flutter during every goodnight and good morning call Tetsurou slipped within your day. Snapshots within your day included a random selfie Tetsurou had sent you and various other text messages that updated you about his day. For almost three years, you saw him through a screen. You saw Tetsurou falling asleep while flipping through an algebra textbook, yelling with _or at_ Kenma with a game controller, or just laying back in his bed tossing and catching a volleyball while you flipped through your own notes. The distance didn’t mean much to you because despite being thousands of miles apart, it felt like Tetsurou was _right there._

Your favorite moments had to be the summer of your final year in highschool. It became a routine where Tetsurou, _knowing_ that you completely trashed your sleeping schedule, you were more than awake at three in the morning for him to call. That summer he finally got his license and developed the habit of driving around with you, plastered on the screen of his phone, your voice blasted on the speaker instead of playing the music you knew he liked driving to. He’d stop by a convenience store to buy ice cream and eat it with you (having your own midnight snack) at a quiet parking lot some distance from the city. And the two of you would stay like that for hours. You’d muse about the three a.m. thoughts swimming around your head that night and he’d listen, with the occasional snarky comment (that became endearing to you over the years), and he’d talk about the three p.m. thoughts swimming in his.

And despite being on opposite sides of the world, you managed to watch the sun together. Though, the only difference was that as it rose on your corner of the world, he sat and watched it set in his.

“We’re watching the same sun, though.” He’d say, and in a way, it made the distance feel a little absent.

So your heart decided to beat again, during a Saturday evening that autumn: when you accepted the skype call at seven p.m. and waved a good morning to a sleepy Tetsurou. He replied with a good evening before settling back into his bed with a mug of coffee and his fleece blanket wrapped up to his head.

“If you were here we could have actually gone on a date instead of that shitty video call, you know.”

You looked at him, pouting into his mug of coffee, eyes still a little bleary from sleep and figure enveloped in a giant blanket. “I know.”

“I bet we’d look cute together, (y/n).”

You pressed your face into the heels of your hands and scrunched your nose towards the screen. “Tetsu, _I_ would look cute. _You’d_ look _slightly cuter_ next to me.”

He scrunched his nose and retaliated with an equally snarky comment, but you didn’t mind. The same flutter in your stomach told you that you didn’t mind. The way your heart pounded a little faster as you looked at your best friend bathed in the morning light, hit the final nail in the coffin with the assurance that you _absolutely did not mind._

-

The third came in scattered moments. For a while you had kept it as a secret for yourself, but eventually coming clean to Kenma one night as he drawled about how _annoying_ Tetsurou had gotten over his new girlfriend. The blonde gave you a look through the screen before groaning, “My _God_ , (y/n). _I was rooting for you two_.”

You couldn’t find it in yourself to hate the girl. Next to Tetsurou, she seemed like sunshine and you could see it. In the way his smile tilted a little higher and the way his eyes shone when she spoke. He often replied to her with a voice as soft as hers, so you yielded. “He’s happy, Kenma.”

Kenma looked at you with a flat look, so you took his silence as his response. Huffing out an exhale and pushing the controller to the camera’s line of vision, you met Kenma’s stare. “Another round?”

The realization didn’t come as a completed that came to you at once.

Slowly, even as you told yourself that you were okay, and whatever _this_ was is okay, you knew convincing yourself was another story. The dynamic between the two of you didn’t change, or at least on Tetsurou’s part he genuinely thought that it didn’t.

The mornings and evening calls were still constant even though the duration had become shorter. Gone were the nights you’d idly sit and watch Tetsurou fight sleep during homework. But it was fine. You knew she must have kept him awake enough to finish the worksheets.

Jealously was an ugly emotion, you thought. You knew it didn’t suit you, but you couldn’t help but feel it bubbling during that one Sunday night he’d rang you up at five thirty in the morning, because he _knew_ you wouldn’t hesitate to answer (you didn’t), and waved a hello before flipping the camera and showing his girlfriend shyly waving at you from the passenger seat of his car.

Your throat tightened when you looked at the watch, then looked at the screen where he forgot to flip the screen, showing the setting sun’s light casted on the two.

You laughed out your excuse of needing to catch up on a little more sleep before you clicked your phone off and turned towards the window.

The sun had risen, and your heart may have clenched a little at the thought that he was watching the same sun set with someone who wasn’t you. But Tetsurou smiled in that special way with the twinkle in his eyes, so even as you watched the sky light up from the first peaks of the sun’s rays, you decided that because you loved him—you didn’t mind.

-

The next year continued like that. The friendship stayed although the dynamic you two shared changed. As the year progressed, you took note of the dwindling calls, and hasty text messages. You didn’t bother to keep up with how their relationship deepened, but still had the heart to like every Instagram post either of them posted during anniversaries. You held on to the birthday messages or songs he randomly sent you and listened to the words that you sometimes imagined were what he meant for you. Once in a while the conversation would last longer than the occasional greetings and things felt like they clicked back into place again. But the next day, there never came the nostalgic good morning, or the sight of him with bleary eyes in the morning light, so you tucked that little piece of memory and listened to the same three songs you imagined were for you.

And because you loved him—for that time it was enough.

Before the autumn of the following year began, you found yourself seated on a twelve hour flight back to Tokyo where for the first time, in over seven years, you stood in front of him. Tetsurou was beaming, and you felt choked up.

Tetsurou’s hello was made known through a tight hug and a, “Glad you’re home.” So for that short while, you wrapped your arms around him and breathed the scent of his jacket, because for the first time in seven years, in a way he felt a little like home.

So as he sat across from you and said, “You would’ve loved her! She had to go somewhere that’s why she can’t come. But maybe you can meet another time!” you didn’t have it in you to let your smile crack and instead reached forward to clap him on the shoulder.

“Tetsu, you’re a simp.”

He laughed but nodded at your comment, but again, you took note of his happy smile so you let yourself try to mirror the emotion he held in his. And because you loved him, you thought of the tunes of the songs you imagined were for you and searched for the momentary peace in that.

-

That one time where you finally broke your silence was when he walked into your apartment with a chipped smile. Another two years had passed where you watched Tetsurou grow into a new identity. He still cracked the same jokes from _years_ ago, that you remembered, but his change was first subtle with the way he liked his coffee made to the resolve hardening in his eyes, and to the ink that wrapped around his arms. But he still had moments that made him reach out to you, and in those times you’d catch him animated about the most mundane things in early sunlight— you allowed yourself to love him quietly in silence.

“I have beer.” He said as he shrugged off his coat and rolled his sleeves up. From your spot standing in the kitchen, you eyed the fresh ink on his arms. “New ink?”

Tetsurou placed the pack of beer in the middle of your table before taking a seat in the couch. He threw his head back and looked at you. “Yup. Got it earlier. Come sit,” he patted the empty space next to him with a little extra emphasis, “I really need a hug.”

Grabbing the bowl of chips from the counter, you made your way to where he was and sat at the empty space next to him. Automatically he slumped against your form and began picking at the chips.

Your hands patted the spikes in his hair and you leaned back, Tetsurou warm against your side.

“I feel like I’m dying.” He mumbled in your side.

“You’re not dying, Tetsu. Your heart just hurts.”

“I really love her.” His voice didn’t crack like you expected it to but his hand fisted the hem of your sweater a little tighter, so you sunk your hands into his hair and began smoothing out the wilder pieces. This had always distracted him, so you hoped it worked this time around.

You gestured for him to sit up and follow you as you grabbed a can of beer as you sat up. “Let’s get you some fresh air.”

Tetsurou grumbled a little before grabbing his own can and following you to the balcony. You leaned against the railing, cracked the tab open and took a swig. Tetsurou joined you by the railings and clinked his beer against yours before taking his own sip.

Tokyo’s skyline looked beautiful in the night. You peered at the man standing next to you, his own can pressing against his lips. “What made you get a new tattoo?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know.” He paused to sigh. “Just felt like it.”

“You know you’re a good person right?” You asked.

“I’m not as much of a saint as I wish I was.”

“None of us are saints.”

He tipped tipped the can back and gulped down the remainder of his beer. “Not many people have broken a person either.”

And after a little pause in silence, you reassured him, “You’re gonna be okay, Tetsu. In time.”

“I don’t think I’m in that mindset yet.”

“Yet.”

He looked at you and sighed again. You thought even with tired eyes he looked beautiful. “Yet.” He repeated back.

And somehow along that night, the hours stretched into a comfortable silence. This felt a little like déjà vu. With Tetsurou settled behind you, chin on top of your head as he enveloped your form in his, the both of you facing the east. Little specks of yellow lights began to dance around the sky.

Tetsurou’s voice broke through the silence. “Have you ever loved someone?”

You closed your eyes and leaned into his warmth, already rehearsing the tunes of the song that brought you a false blanket of serenity over the years. “I have.”

“You did?” His tone sounded a little shocked, but you felt it in you that deep down he must have known, or suspected something even.

“Yeah. Eight years. I saw him in everything.”

“How,” his tone was a little more tentative his time, considering he was now dancing on unfamiliar territory, “how did you let go?”

“I haven’t yet.”

He stayed silent but he squeezed you a little tighter.

And then the two of you watched as the yellow of the sun finally broke through. Slowly, the morning light illuminated the outline of Tokyo. You truly felt like you were in some sort of déjà vu as you looked at Tetsurou, _for the first time_ , bathing in the same light, from the _same sun_ , where you fell in love with him all those years ago.

You thought back to when your friend had told you that experiencing déjà vu meant that it was the universe’s own way of telling you that you’re going down the right path. And looking up Tetsurou, who felt the warmth of the sun with his head tilted back and eyes fluttered close, you knew you were right where you’re supposed to be.

Which was why you traced the ink on the side of your wrist and in a steady voice spoke, “I love you.”

He stepped back and looked at you. “What?”

His expression looked a little confused and you smiled. Holding out your wrist to him, you spoke again, “I began to tell myself that every day.”

“I realized because he made up such a big part of my life, when he moved on I felt missing and stuck. Kind of like being in a loop.” You giggled and willed yourself to remember the meaning of déjà vu again before continuing, “So like, the times where he’d be gone, I just decided to replace them by telling myself that I love me. I told myself good morning, and goodnight, and kept snapshots of my day to remind myself that I’m living this life and moving forward.”

Tetsurou looked beautiful in the morning light. _Confused,_ but still beautiful.

“I realized in those eight years, I lost so much of myself. And he looked _so happy_. His eyes were literally sparkling, Tetsu! I thought that shit only happened in _anime_. But that kind of love happened to him so I thought I deserved that too.”

“I got this tattoo a few weeks ago, see?” You turned your wrist to the side and watched as he traced over the inked bundle of baby’s breath. “I read somewhere that it meant everlasting love. I was in the middle of another sad girl hour moment so I thought why not give it to myself? It’s a start, right?”

Tetsurou’s lips quirked up at your words before he looked at you. “I’m proud of you.”

You looked back and met his gaze. It didn’t hold the same sparkle that it did for her but you didn’t mind. The feeling of déjà vu never went away so you inhaled a sharp breath. Tetsurou truly did look beautiful in the morning light, more so as he stands in front of you with a gentle look in his eyes. More than five of the eight years that you knew him had you spent dreaming about the morning like this where you’d stand with your hands in his own, eye to eye in the same side of the world looking at the same sun that lay witness to your growth.

You took him into his arms and buried your face in his chest, inhaling his scent. He smelt as familiar as he felt. And the moment still feels like déjà vu you feel like you could cry. Your heart constricts in the way that kind of hurts but also kind of doesn’t, and you feel his hand rub circles on your back, so you speak, “You’ll find peace, Tetsu. We’ll get there.”

His cheek presses against the crown of your head as he murmurs, “In time.”

And in that moment you realize that even though you love him, first you tell yourself a silent _‘I love you’ ,_ and then echo, _“In time.”_


	2. To Us, A Love Story Unwritten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time away from Tetsurou leads you to the serendipity that is Miya Atsumu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want extra feelings please listen to Blue by Elina, and Miles Apart by Nick Wilson! :D

The thought of healing didn’t cross your mind until some months later.

In the mornings after _that_ morning, you stood in your balcony, leaning against the railing with a mug of coffee, your thoughts wandering. Sometimes you thought of what kind of coffee you liked, and other times you caught yourself wondering how Tetsurou moved through his six AMs. Morning thoughts were reserved for the things you prefer to keep out of your head during the day. Tetsurou, of course, had always been an exception. He somehow always flowed in your train of thought whether the numbers on your watch flashed 3am or 3pm.

 _Or now,_ you thought after taking a quick peek at the time in your phone, _6:19 AM;_ all you could think about was how sad his golden eyes looked against the black of Tokyo’s backdrop.

Tetsurou making his way into your thoughts has always how it’s been for almost a decade, and _habits are a little hard to break_. At least, that’s what you say to reason with yourself.

Thinking back to your words that night, the “I love you” just kind of slipped out. But you know you _meant_ it. Shifting your wrist to the side, you studied the tattoo again, then closed your eyes to remember the expression on your best friend’s features.

You meant the _I love you_ , you told yourself again. Towards yourself that was for sure; _towards Tetsurou._

 _And that’s always going to be the case_ , taunted the voice in the back of your head.

After that night, Tetsurou had broken up with his long term girlfriend for good. Though he didn’t necessarily _ruin_ himself over the breakup—there were changes.

He still texted you at odd hours to show you a video he thought was funny, still showed up to your apartment for movie nights, and more or less was still present. But it was during the particularly sentimental scenes in the movie where he’d choose to refill the popcorn or grab another soda, and you could see that his can was still half full. You noticing that Tetsurou always chose to pick the _other_ boba shop that was on the other side of town never flew past you either. You knew that that was the shop he always used to take her after classes—so even seeing how his hands never failed to tighten against the steering wheel when the two of you would drive by, you always pretended not to notice. Even though four months had passed, you know that for him, the wound was still fresh.

And remembering how sad he looked that night, you couldn’t help yourself to feel for his pain. At the end of the day, weren’t you just two people who yearned for the love that couldn’t be yours?

So you sigh and take a sip of coffee from the mug; it had grown a little cold. The digital clock on your phone read _6:31 AM_ next to a text from Tetsurou asking if you had time for lunch later.

Replying a quick ‘ _yep. meet u at the usual :)’,_ did _nothing_ for you trying to have a more productive day off today and thus the morning felt a little slower than normal, so you sigh. _Again._

_It was going to be one of those days._

-

Tetsurou _always_ made it a point to look gorgeous. Was he trying? Probably not, but that son a bitch _knew_ people gave him looks that lingered a bit too long to be considered just a passing glance. You nearly snort in laughter at the way he opens the door to the café a little too, for better words, _extravagantly_ , and walk to you purposely taking his time because you could tell he felt the way the young mom sitting at the table near the counter was giving him _the look_.

Then again, you don’t blame her. You weren’t too far from her reaction, albeit you actually had the decency to not openly _gawk_ at him. Tetsurou plopped down in the chair opposite from you and pushed his sleeves up to his elbows and propping them up the table before grabbing the menu from the middle of the table.

Already knowing your order, _and his even though he still looks through the menu every time_ , you sit in your seat waiting for him to settle on the same thing he ordered the last time you ate there.

“Tetsu, why do you have to be so extra every time you see someone looking at you for more than three seconds?”

He cocked his head to the side and peeked at you from behind the menu, “Because I’m hot, tree.”

Though you rolled your eyes at the nickname, you still smiled at the familiar banter, “I still don’t get why you call me tree when you’re the literal beanpole in this friendship.”

“That’s rich coming from you, considering you told people you knew a _talking rooster_ in highschool.” He deadpanned, but you knew he was on the edge of a chuckle from the way he emphasized his words.

“Hey,” you raised your arms up in defense, “people thought you were interesting that way so…”

Tetsurou set the menu down and rolled his eyes at your response as the waiter greeted the two of you. Before Tetsurou could open his mouth to say what he wanted, you spoke, “I’ll get the carbonara and he’ll get the tonkatsu ramen—“

“Oi-“ he interrupted from the side, still, you continued, “we’ll also get iced tea, extra sugar for him, and a little less for me.”

The waiter looked between the two of you waiting for Tetsurou to finish speaking but he only leans back huffing out a, “She’s right.”

You smirked. “You get the same thing every time.”

“Well what if I want something _else_ one day?” He replied to which you rolled your eyes as a reply.

In between bites, Tetsurou looks up from his meal, “Any plans?”

You twirled the straw of your drink around the liquid and looked at him, “I was thinking of traveling somewhere. My boss is letting me take some time off, and season’s kind of slow, so might as well.”

He nods, and then points his chopsticks at you, sighing, “Oh to be young and employed with an employer who doesn’t want to kill you with work.”

“We’re literally seven months apart.” You deadpan.

He huffs in his seat and continues eating.

\----

“Have you decided where you’re going?”

You look to your left at Tetsurou who’s facing you, no longer paying attention to the movie playing in the TV. Smoothing out the blanket on your lap, you sigh and tilt your head. “Kinda? I’m thinking somewhere warm. Kinda miss the sea.”

At this point the movie you two settled on a few hours ago had been completely forgotten, so you shift your body and face him. He offers you your third ( _or was it the fourth?_ ) can of beer for that night, which you take and pop open immediately.

“(Y/n), can you even swim?” He laughs.

You glare at him from behind your drink. “I can go and look pretty in the beach while sipping my margaritas thank you very much.” Tetsurou clinks his can against yours and leans back against the couch, shifting to a more comfortable position. When he finally settles, he positions his head in a way that’s still facing you.

Draping your legs across his lap, you rearrange the blanket so that it covers the both of you. You feel the weight of his hands leaning against your legs and then hear him speak, “How long are you gonna be gone?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, a month? Two months? Haven’t even got the ticket yet.”

He gives you a look you can’t decipher, and then his voice becomes a little quiet, “What if I want to go with you?”

“Tetsu, you know your job won’t let you off that long.” You reply. He lets out an exaggerated sigh and pout at you, “You’re going to go and find a new surfer best friend who’ll buy you margaritas that flips his hair and you’ll forget about me.”

You chuckle. “Like that’s gonna happen.”

At this point the alcohol must have hit the both of you because you suddenly look at him, eyes soft in the way you usually would mask in the hours you were sober. He looks at you, equally as deep in the state of inebriation as you are because his eyes are as hazy as the slur in his tone when he says, “Nope! Because you _looooove_ me (y/n).”

And he laughs at his own joke, tilting his head back to take another swig of beer. The comedic undertone flies past you anyway, because you fiddle with the edge of your sweater and sadly nod, “Yeah. I do”

In front of you, Tetsurou raises his hand, smiling, then hollers, “High five! Love you too.”

If it wasn’t for the liquid confidence, you would’ve laughed along to his joke and take another gulp of your beer to swallow the confession—but you’re four cans in and Tetsurou saying that he _loves you too_ clouds the usual boundaries swimming in your head.

He doesn’t notice you when you take another heavy gulp from your can, or bite your lip afterwards, but he hears you when you say, “ _I do_ , you dumb fuck, I love _you._ ”

And as soon as you say it, you feel him look at you. You choose to keep your head down. A few beats of silence passes before he speaks, “I know, (y/n),” he reaches forward to grab your hand, taking it into his. He traces the lining of the tattoo before continuing, “I know your tattoo story. And I’m still proud of-“

“I love _you_ , Tetsurou.” You could almost wince at how loud it echoed in the silence, and the alcohol is still swimming in your system so you take another gulp hoping to dive deeper.

You feel him stop tracing the lines on your wrist so you take your hand back to your lap. He let the quiet envelop the room again before he spoke, and you could tell he was careful with his words.

“That time in the balcony, when you said you loved someone…” He trailed off so you look up and catch his stare. His eyes were still glassy; your head was still swimming, the rational thoughts further muffled by liquid confidence.

“I meant you.” You say, and try to fight the urge to break eye contact.

And because Tetsurou chooses to reply with a hushed _‘I’m sorry.’_ , you tell him _‘it’s okay, Tetsu.’_ and retreat to your bedroom with a mumbled excuse of sleeping off a headache.

You lie in the dark with one hand over your eyes and sniffle quietly. You hear his _“I’m sorry.”_ echo in the silence, but you try to ignore the thought at how immediate the apology was. He always had a habit of thinking about his answers in uncertain situations.

But you know him more than you give yourself credit for, you realize, so you shut your eyes and ignore the sting of the tears because you _know_. You’ve always known everything you felt for him had been on the unrequited side for the most part.

The certainty in his apology still hurt none the less.

\--

That morning you wake up with a slight pound in your head and an empty apartment. _At least he didn’t stick around_ , you thought, fully aware that the conversation afterwards would have most likely been too awkward to sit through.

Sighing as you rounded the corner to enter the kitchen, you paused in your track to look at the table where a plate of omurice lay in the middle next to a glass of sweet tea, the condensation still a little fresh on the glass.

Taking a seat and whispering a soft, “ _Itadakimasu”_ , you picked up the glass and took a sip. It didn’t taste as sweet as his.

Your eyes still stung, but you couldn’t help but smile at the taste. Looks like he remembers how you like your coffee too.

-

After that night, there never really came a talk about where the two of you stood. Two days after the _not so sober_ confession, Tetsurou showed up at your door with a bag of donuts demanding your company to picnic at this new spot he found recently. So you played along and pretended like nothing happened. The rational thoughts were back, your head no longer cloudy so this time, you laughed along with Tetsurou.

Though you could tell this time around his gaze towards you lingered a little longer, and he began to have moments where it looked like he was contemplating to start a conversation then ultimately deciding against it at the very last second. It was fine, though. You weren’t sure if you were ready to have that conversation just yet.

So the next few weeks flowed like how it always did. Movie nights, playful banters, small talk, and beer—only this time you never drank more than two.

“Have you decided where you’re going?” He asks.

“Yeah, there’s this island in the Philippines. Siargao. My flight’s next week. The place looks sunny enough, but I might hop around the other islands if I stay long enough.” You reply.

“Don’t drown.” He laughs, and sets his beer down. You turn your focus back to the movie after chuckling at his reply and ignore how he never picked up a third can this time. And unlike before, he didn’t ask if he could come along this time.

-

Tetsurou drops you off with a half hug and a request that you update him as often as you can.

After a final wave at the gate, you board the plane with a return ticket to Japan slotted for two months later down the year. 

-

The island of Siargao is as beautiful as the pictures you always see on social media. Outside the unit you rented, was a stretch of untouched beach that was some ways from the main square of the city. And true to your words, for the first week of your arrival, you spent your days kicking the sand, lounging by the water and sipping on margaritas.

Tetsurou sent you multiple messages during the first few days, to which you replied through selfies with your margaritas. He’d send you a photo of himself rolling his eyes with the caption _“off to work, because I have a job. Like **some** people.”_ , or something along similar lines.

You tried to think this wasn’t some random trip you took _just because_ of Tetsurou. It had been a long time since you last took a vacation for yourself; work was lenient, you saved up enough, and frankly, you missed the beach. Tetsurou was just the icing on top of the cake that helped you make your decision, you rationalized.

 _Plus,_ you thought, _this place is paradise._

And you held on to that thought because a few days later came the knock on your door at six in the morning that introduced you to the serendipity you never could have predicted. Your little summer serendipity came in the form of a six foot one, and _totally ripped_ blonde named Miya Atsumu.

He knocked at your door asking if you knew any places that rented out surfboards and scooters. By the time he was at the third word of his sentence, you knew he was Japanese because of the accent that lingered after he spoke. By the fourth sentence, he smiled in a way that had his eyes crinkling. And by the end of the conversation, by whatever _being_ possessed you in that moment, probably that extra margarita, you had agreed to go to the main square in the city with him.

Atsumu knocks on your door for the second time that day at five in the afternoon wearing a loose white button shirt and another eye crinkling smile. Dangling a set of keys in one hand he nodded behind him and said, “Ready to go? I got the scooter from the place you told me.”

This time, you voiced out your hesitation, “Ahh, it’s alright. You don’t have to get dinner for me tonight. I just happened to know a place.”

He smiles and blinks at you laughing, “Ya travelin’ alone?” You nod then he continues, “Same here. Might as well know someone in the area. Heard the food here’s good, so let’s go.”

You open your mouth to protest but he turns and walks towards his scooter so you huff and follow after him. He did have a point. You were going to be there for two months so might as well actually take the time to _know_ some people.

-

After Atsumu helps you fasten the belt on the helmet, he tells you to _‘feel free to hold on to my waist if ya need to balance.’_ and then backs to the main street. Your hands rest on his shoulders as he drives along a road parallel to the stretch of water on your far left. It must have been close to seven, you take note, because as you glance up the colors in the sky begin to blend into mellow hues of orange and red.

You look forward and glance at Atsumu’s reflection in the side mirror before briefly catching his eye. From the mirror, you could see an expression that was somewhere between a smirk and a smile.

“Ya like what ya see?” He yells over the wind.

You squeeze his shoulder, then lean closer saying, “Just drive. I’m not in the mood to die.”

He laughs over the holler of the open air and you can’t help but smile along to how his laugh lingers in the air.

Soon enough, the two of you settle into a restobar by the beach, one close enough to the water where you could ditch your flip flops and let your feet sink in the sand.

 _This has got to be the fifth margarita I’m drinking today_ , you think to yourself before taking a sip. _Still good though,_ you inwardly snort. Atsumu sits across you from the table nursing his own choice of drink.

The atmosphere was nice, the live musician strumming his first song in the background. Then Atsumu speaks from across you, “So,” he begins, “How long ya stayin’?”

You fiddle with the straw of your drink, facing him, “Two months. You?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know yet. Off season and there’s not much to do back home, so might as well be bored somewhere a little more scenic.”

“Indefinite vacation,” you nod—impressed, “Must be hella loaded.”

He laughs again, “I’m comfortable.”

The silence envelops the two of you again, but as the musician begins another song, from the corner of your eye you see Atsumu listen, clap, and smile so you decide maybe befriending this stranger won’t be so bad after all.

The next night you head for go for drinks, Tetsurou messages you with a picture of him and Kenma in the car with a caption, “ _movie night minus the traitor who left the country >:((“ _and you reply with your signature margarita selfie with Atsumu throwing a peace sign to your right. Tetsurou replies with a smiley face and you don’t hear from him for the rest of the night.

-

The next few weeks consisted of waking up shy of the sunrise and walks along the trail where the waves crept towards the sand. Atsumu liked to join you in the mornings, of course, the days he _actually_ wakes up before ten AM. Some days you’d watch him peddle out into the water catching wave after wave as you sat in the sand, under a shade. You didn’t really go out into the water and preferred to just sit in the sun, so the times Atsumu would catch a break, he’d lay out a towel next to you and sit to talk.

He was talkative. _Extremely_ talkative. But it was welcome, you suppose. He asked aimless questions during conversations. Conversations with him usually sounded like this: _“(y/n)?” “Yep?” “Whadda ya think about riceballs?” “They’re…okay, I guess.” “Good to know.”_

It was endearing, you suppose. Atsumu respected your boundaries and never pried, that fact was for sure. Though, he chose to fill in the beats of silence with little facts about his life. Over the course of the next month, in the moments you’d spend with Atsumu during the day, you’ve learned that he was playing for a professional volleyball team, he’s originally not from Tokyo, he tripped during a fan meeting, has a twin brother who’s _darn good at cookin’_ (he emphasized), and that his favorite food is fatty tuna. You don’t remember specifically asking, but he talks anyway you can’t bring yourself to mind one bit.

During the past month and some, Tetsurou sporadically texts you a greeting to which you reply to—but this time, it wasn’t until much, _much_ later that you realize you didn’t think too much about the change of tone and much hastier conversations. You usually ended the phone call this time around, too.

Nearing the last few stretches of golden hour, Atsumu would routinely knock at your door and drag you out to walk around the beach only retreating to your respective units hours after the sunset.

It was during this one night where Atsumu sits you down and stars a small bonfire. He excused himself for a brief moment then came back with a Tupperware of what you assumed to be snacks, a blanket, and a hoodie which he lent you (that up to now you still haven’t returned). You smile as he takes his seat next to you, comfortable in his hoodie.

“So,” Atsumu breaks the silence, “how come yer runnin’ away for two months?”

“That’s kinda sudden.” You reply.

He knocks your shoulder with his lightly before speaking again, “You don’t have ta’ share if you don’t wanna.”

“No pressure,” he says again and his eyes crinkle at his smile so you press your shoulder against his and say, “I just wanted time for myself I guess.”

He nods, so you continue, “It’s nothing dramatic, really. For a big part of my life I just…lived according to how people placed me in their lives. I guess I just wanted the space where I had to make decisions from nothing if that even makes any sense.”

“Depends. How many margaritas did ya have today?” He jokes.

“Atsumu! You were with me the whole day, I haven’t even had one yet.” You laugh out.

“But I understand what ya’ mean. Yer all good, I just thought you were gonna say you were soul searchin’ cause of a boy that broke ya’ heart back home.”

You look at him and wince. “In a way, that was a factor as well.”

Half expecting a sympathetic reply, you find yourself rolling your eyes and laughing because Atsumu suddenly yells, “ _Bingo!”_ and flicks your forehead.

He faces you and holds his hands up, “Hey, we all got a reason to do stuff so I ain’t gonna judge ya’.”

You smile and lean against his shoulder because you know he’s sincere. “Atsumu?” You call out.

“Yeah?” He replies as he turns his head looking at you. The red of the flames flicker as a glassy reflection against the brown in his eyes and your thoughts become jumbled for a second.

“If I find out you’re here because you got dumped I’m never letting you live it down.”

His eyes crinkle along with his laugh and you find yourself missing the pools of brown, but the echo of his laugh resonates clear in your ears as compensation so you decide you’re satiated.

“I swear I just got bored back home!”

Atsumu spends the next few hours by telling you stories and giving you soft smiles, and you don’t notice the absence of Tetsurou’s message that night.

-

On the afternoon after some weeks more, Atsumu comes to you by knocking at your door at five in the afternoon (which doesn’t even surprise you at this point), demanding you put on swimwear because he was going to teach you how to swim. At first, you stare at him with a blank look—wherein he stares at you right back with equal intensity, so after some time, you sigh and shoo him out, telling him you’ll meet him outside after you get ready.

After tugging on some shorts and a bikini top, you walk outside and glance around looking for the telltale blonde of Atsumu’s head. It doesn’t really surprise you when you hear your name being hollered from some distance, so as you look to the direction of the water—you see Atsumu waving his arms wildly, already waist deep out in sea.

The water was warm, at least, and you carefully wade in the water towards Atsumu. He lets you grab his arms to help you find balance against the waves knocking against you.

“You know you’re going to fail if you try to teach me right?” You say.

“Just needed an excuse to get you in the water.” He chuckles. You respond by splashing him with a handful of water. And somewhere in between splashes of water and playful banter, you find yourself wading chest deep into warm water, Atsumu’s arms acting as your anchor against the push and pull of the waves. The two of you stay like that for some time and you allow the _woosh_ of the water and distant sounds of the children on shore fill the silence.

“Golden hour’s almost up, ‘Tsumu, we should go back.” You say after some time. He stands behind you and leans down a bit, then surprises you as he wraps his arms around you, pulling your back to his chest. Your breath hitches, then his voice sounds low near your ear, “Look at the sky.”

And so you do. The sky in front of you lights itself in bursting shades of oranges, reds, and touches of violets. You turn your face to the side but stop because you see Atsumu staring at you, the expression on his face soft.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” His lips part to say, and you nod because you see licks of the sky’s painting reflected in the glassy brown pools of Atsumu’s eyes.

He blinks and smiles in a softer way that only the corners crinkle up, and you don’t notice how your hand eventually found its way to wrap around his because you’re gravitating towards him—face angling closer until you felt his lips press against your forehead.

Turning to face him, Atsumu’s hands cradle yours as he presses his lips towards the side of your lips, then back to the side of your head feeling him smiling into the kiss. “You’re somethin’ else, (y/n).”

You look at him wearing a smile mirroring his, “Something good I hope.”

 _It’s something good_ , you decide later that night as you settle in bed after dinner with Atsumu. The past few hours flew by in a mirage of good conversation, light hearted jokes and even more eye crinkling smiles from Atsumu.

Settling into the comforter, you grab your laptop just in time as Tetsurou’s face pops up on screen, requesting a video call. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you hit the accept button and wave hello as Tetsuou’s face appears on the screen. He holds a can of beer as a greeting and leans forward. His eyes look glassy.

“(Y/n)..” His voice trails off before slowly continuing, “—how are you?”

You don’t notice his tone from the high you’re still feeling from the day so you beam at him, “I’m good! Atsumu and I are really hitting it off! You’d love him Tetsu!”

He stares at you through the webcam and then he sighs deep. Finally catching a drift of the atmosphere he’s giving off, you watch him crack another beer open and slowly speak, “You okay? Did something happen?”

He sets the can down at the table in front of him and places his face in his hands. You notice the new ink around his forearms. “I miss you, (y/n).”

“I’ll be home next week, Tetsu.” You say

“I—“ he pauses to look up at you with glassy eyes, “I think we should give us a try.”

Your heart clenches. “Tetsurou, you’re drunk. We can talk when I get home.” He shakes his head, and his movement is a little sluggish, so you continue to speak before he could, “I saw the photo your ex posted earlier. You’re still not okay, Tetsu.”

He leans back to his chair with a little force, “And suddenly _you_ are? After being in love with me for _eight years,_ (y/n), you expect me to believe that you’re _suddenly_ okay? Bullshit.”

Your face grimaces, and you feel anger bubble up, the emotion seeping into your words, “I don’t think you’re _ever_ going to go away, Tetsurou. For years I watched you fall in and out of love with someone who was _never_ me. I’m not suddenly okay but I accepted that _this_ —“ you pause to gesture between the two of you, “—isn’t going to happen and I’m _moving on_. I watched you when you were at your happiest and I deserve that too, Tetsu. I deserve to be at my happiest whether it be by myself or with Atsu-“

“We can try, (y/n).” He cuts you off softly.

“But I don’t deserve someone who isn’t sure about me.” You reply.

And maybe it’s the liquid confidence that riles him up, but he suddenly straightens his back and looks at you with the same glare you stare at him with, “And are you sure about Atsumu? You told me none of us are saints, (y/n), you’re not better off than I am here.”

You open your mouth, but the silence remains; the atmosphere suddenly heavy.

Then Tetsurou slumps before he he speaks, “(Y/n), I—“ 

“It’s okay, Kuroo,” you watch as he winces at his surname, “It’s late and I really want to get some sleep. You should too. Take care.”

You catch the last second of him parting his lips at an attempt to reply before you promptly ended the call and shut off your laptop.

His words ring in your ear the entire night, and you think of Atsumu the entire night. You watch the second hand of the clock on your bedside table tick slowly. Your hand comes to rest against your eyes as you try to let sleep pull you in.

You think of Tetsurou who looked at you with glassy eyes that told you all the reasons why his heart was still hurting, then you think of Atsumu—of how the sunset looked better reflected in his eyes than it did painted across the sky.

“I really hope this is something good.” You echo your words from earlier as you let sleep finally succumb into slumber.

-

The night before your flight, Atsumu seats you outside for a bonfire, with the same blankets, snacks, and hoodie fitted around you. The first few hours he jokes about little stories that happened throughout his life and listens patiently when you’d share a snippet of yours.

At this point, you weren’t sure where the two of you stood. You look at him from the corner of your eye as he blows against an _extremely burnt_ marshmallow before sheepishly offering the stick to you.

“When we’re back in Japan I’m lettin’ ya taste ‘Samu’s cookin’ to make up for this I swear.”

You lean your head against his arm and blow on the charred marshmallow, “Have you decided when you’re coming back?”

“Yes, but I’m not tellin ya.” Atsumu chuckles.

“What!” You exclaim, suddenly sitting up, “You already have a ticket?”

“That’s also a secret, doll.”

You sigh and move to lightly punch his shoulder, but instead, he catches your hand midway and envelops it in his own. Atsumu looks at the tattoo on your wrist peeking out, so tentatively, he pushes down the sleeve and looks at it.

“Baby’s breath means eternal love, right?” He asks, voice hushed.

“I’m surprised a big, buff, man like you knows.” You reply.

“Oi, big buff men can be sentimental too.” Atsumu quips.

“(Y/n),” he begins then looks at you in a way that suddenly has your stomach churning, “Should we give _us_ a go at this?”

He asks the same question as Tetsurou did a few nights back and your head is swimming. Tetsurou’s words muddle the thoughts in your head as you turn to face Atsumu who is looking at you with eyes that always held the same softness that remained unchanged from two months ago.

 _Is this even fair for Atsumu?_ is the thought that you circle around.

“I don’t want to give you only half of me, ‘Tsumu.” You cradle his cheek in your palm and your heart stirs when he leans in. “You’re too good for me.” You confess.

He closes his eyes and you find yourself missing the dancing specks of scarlet flames reflected in his orbs. “Yer killin’ me, doll.” He sighs, his face still warm against your palm. Atsumu’s hand trails up and cups your hand that’s still flush against his cheek.

“Is this the part where we say we’re the right people who met at the wrong time?” He jokes quietly. Atsumu looks at you with a smile contrasting against the somber expression in his face, and you feel your heart clench.

Your thoughts momentarily flicker back to the night you talked to Tetsurou in your balcony some months ago and remember the feeling of déjà vu hinting that you were heading in the right direction with your decision.

Staring back at him, you look at your own reflection in darkened pools of brown and don’t feel déjà vu’s familiar push. Atsumu’s other hand trails up your face and his thumb rubs against your cheek. You stay silent when he sighs again and your heart clenches in the way that _hurts_ , and your brain scrambles for a reason _why._

Atsumu angles your hand in a way that lets him press a kiss to the tattoo on your wrist. “Hope ya heal in time, (y/n).”

You’re still quiet, thoughts still muddled as your rationality wrestles to string words to convey to Atsumu. “We can stay in contact, ‘Tsumu. I still want you to be in my life.” You slowly say.

“I don’t wanna be hurtin’ you while you’re still tryin’ to find yourself.” He says, and you nod. Déjà vu never comes and your heart still _aches_.

And your heart remains heavy as the two of you stand up to retreat for the night. Against the door of your room you look at him and press a kiss on his cheek. He smiles at you.

“Well, I guess,” you initiate, “see you around?”

He smiles and crosses the short distance between the two of you, then presses a chaste kiss on your forehead. “If the universe wills it, doll.”

The feeling of déjà vu is absent for the rest of the night.

-

After the first few days of your arrival back in Japan, you stay in your apartment cursing the winter. This particular winter was a little harsh for Tokyo and the sudden temperature change you needed to adjust to didn’t help with your _traitor_ immune system. Kenma had waited for you at the arrival area of the airport instead of Tetsurou that day. Then again, you weren’t complaining—you didn’t have any plans to talk to him immediately after coming back home.

You didn’t need to report back to your job until the next week so the first few days, you loitered around your apartment mindlessly passing the time. Some mornings, you’d drag a chair by the balcony and sip your morning coffee. The snow accumulating on the rails and the gloomy morning light was a far cry from the little island you explored with Atsumu back in the Philippines, but your thoughts still ghosted around him from time to time.

The morning you left for the airport, he slept in, but that didn’t stop you from leaving a sticky note in his front door with your contact details neatly printed in the paper. Throughout your day, your eyes constantly flickered to sneak glimpses at your phone’s notification bar, but there was never an unknown number. So you sighed, and instead scrolled through the photos you managed to capture with him. The image of Atsumu stared back at you through the screen, expression beaming with unfiltered happiness and you find yourself smiling along _every time._

A knock on your door one morning brings you out of your haze. Before you could look through the peep hole, another knock comes and then a voice, “Ah, (y/n), I think you’re home now,” your hand on the door knob loosens, “It’s Tetsurou. Can we please talk?”

You must have stayed quiet too long because he speaks again, “I got you donuts.” And you sigh, because he’s right, the two of you need to talk. But you still tell yourself you’re only opening the door because it’s six in the morning and you can’t be bothered to make breakfast so the _donuts_ are the _only_ reason you’re letting him in.

-

Tetsurou sits on the opposite side of the dining table gripping the handle of his mug with one hand before he clears his throat and looks at you, “I’m sorry.”

“Tetsurou,” you begin, “You’re someone that I don’t think will ever leave my system.” His eyes are a little clearer now that you return his stare. “You’re still the person who grew up with me even if time difference existed you know. You’ve had so many roles in my life and that’s never going to change.”

He looks at you, suddenly looking like a teenager again. His golden eyes stare at you and gleam of something unspoken. “I think somewhere along the years I really did fall in love with you, (y/n). And it just sucks how we never met at the same page. I really do love you, (y/n).”

“Maybe in the next life, Tetsu.” You say suddenly choked up. “We both deserve-“

“A fresh start.” He cuts you off, smiling. “A fresh start.” You affirm.

Before you knew it, Tetsurou rolls his sleeve to his elbows and angles his arm showing you a small outline of the sun peeking out behind some buildings. You look at him just in time for his explanation, “It’s not as sentimental as your baby’s breath tattoo, but sunrises remind me of you.”

You feel your eyes water when you look at the amber of his eyes growing glassier, “You got a tattoo that reminds you of me?”

“You’ve always been a constant in my life, (y/n). I shared so many sunrises with you. And I mean it when I say that I want you to find what makes you happy.” He tells you as you smile and lean forward, tracing the lining of his tattoo. The moment feels a little like déjà vu that doesn’t disappear when Tetsurou speaking again, “I love you enough to realize that kind of happiness won’t be with me, (y/n).”

He looks at you and everything feels _so familiar_. You choke out a sob that sounded a little like a laugh and Tetsurou does the same.

“You’re never getting rid of me, you lunatic.” You say, and Tetsurou laughs—eyes glassy from the pricks of tears fighting to slide down his cheeks. “We’re okay, right?” He asks you. And you nod, because your heart constricts in a way that doesn’t hurt, the knot in your stomach gone and Tetsurou looking _so beautiful_ from the morning light that filtered in feels so familiar.

“Always, Tetsu.”

And after some moments of comfortable silence, he looks to the window on his left saying, “So, surfer dude slash volleyball player, huh? I think you got a type going on, (y/n).”

You roll your eyes and _finally_ grab a donut from the box. “Yeah.”

Tetsurou chuckles, “Tell me about him. He’s the first guy who makes you look _dopey in love_.” So you smile and look out the window thinking about the boy who spoke of the little moments and showed you worlds under the sun and feel your heart mellow to a gentle beat, “He’s something good.”

-

Atsumu’s number doesn’t show up on your phone for the next month, but you try to keep yourself from doing your own research, or as Tetsurou pointed out, _stalking_ , for his presence in social media. If he didn’t want to be found, you’d just leave him to it.

Tetsurou sits across from you at the arrival gate in Haneda airport later that month, scrolling through his phone and mumbling curses because Bokuto, his friend, had told him the wrong time for his arrival and won’t be arriving until a few hours later. Instead of driving back home, wasting gas, _and_ sitting through traffic, you suggest to pass the time at a café instead.

“I swear to _god_ , (y/n), remind me to end my friendship with him the second he lands.” Tetsurou huffs from across you.

“You’re being dramatic again.” You roll your eyes, laughing. “He’s gonna be here in a bit,” you pause and stand up, grabbing your phone, “I’ll go check the board so stay here.”

“Since you left your wallet here, I’m treating myself to another frapp, thanks (y/n)!” You hear him call from behind you, so you turn to flick him off as you keep walking.

-

Looking at the board above the gate, your eyes scan to look for information regarding Bokuto’s flight. Under said flight, you smile looking at _SIARGAO_ listed within the board. Briefly, your thought wonders off to Atsumu; you hoped he was doing well.

A flow of people begin to trail out of the gate and into the lobby. Assuming that it must be from Bokuto’s flight, you stand on your tip toes from your little corner to look for the telltale monochromatic palette of his hair.

Grabbing your phone, you hastily press call to Tetsurou’s contact name, to which he answers with a drawled out _“Heeelllloo?”_ along with an exaggerated slurp to the Frappuccino he bought with your card.

You open your mouth to tell him to come over, except that you don’t because standing a few meters in front of you is a familiar blonde.

From the phone in your ear, you hear Tetsurou call your name, so through the haze in your thoughts, you mumble a quick _“Never mind.”_ and hang up. You don’t think Atsumu notices you just yet because he’s pulled his luggage to the side, a little closer to you this time, and pulled out his phone to what you could guess was him texting somebody.

You don’t speak for the first few beats of silence because, _holy shit this is fanfiction material_ — _is this **actually** happening?_ Eventually he pockets his phone and looks around, before his eyes spots you, who at this point, is still openly gawking at him some distance away.

Then three things happen in succession; first, Atsumu’s eyes widen, second, he blinks _really_ fast, and then finally, third, cracks a smile.

And as soon as his smile pushes the crinkle in his eyes, you feel yourself release the breath you’ve unconsciously held in. He pushes his luggage with him as he walks towards you, hand held up in greeting and the smile still plastered wide on his face.

“Yo.” He says and your heart bursts with your reply that came out a little more breathless than you’d expected, “Hi.”

-

Tetsurou stands some distance away from the two of you, holding your wallet and his Frappuccino. He spots the blonde mop of head you’re staring at, _really you should chill out_ (he thinks), and immediately recognizes his features as Miya Atsumu, the same guy who’s been a part of your daily margarita selfie for the two months you were in the Philippines.

The bedhead watches you walk towards Atsumu, and he to you before you both met somewhat in the middle, then looks at you, finding himself smile because of how happy you looked. He stands in his spot and can’t help but feel some sort of déjà vu as he stops himself from approaching the two of you. His heart, he realizes, _clenches in a way that sort of hurts but sort of doesn’t_ , but because this is the first time looking at you with a smile so unabashed, he settles with the thought that because he loves you—you deserve nothing short of the happiness you’re feeling now.

And you can’t help but feel the same as Atsumu laughs out a comment about how the _universe_ must really want the two of you together. His arms circle your figure after exchanging a few pleasantries and inside jokes and you smile into the crook of his neck.

“This feels a little like that déjà vu thing ya talked about before, ya know.” He mumbles. And for the brief moment you see Tetsurou’s text on the screen of your phone reading, “ _simp.”_ , you laugh in a way that has you feeling dizzy and light. You feel like you could cry when Atsumu kisses the side of your head, because _this moment feels so familiar._

 _Atsumu_ feels so familiar. So when you break the embrace and look at the reflection of your watering eyes in the warm pools of his, more than ever, you were sure that this is _exactly_ where the gods meant for you to be.

-


	3. EPILOGUE: The Gratitude in Endings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What follows endings always were the most beautiful things. In this case, after Kuroo Tetsurou, came Miya Atsumu--and for you, nothing could truly be better. 
> 
> Epilogue!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, hey, hellllllloooooo, i keep lying when i say it's the end bc i'm not over this AU lmao   
> crossposted on my tumblr! follow me there ;w; (wordswithinmoments)

You suppose happy endings is the sort of cliché you’ve been wanting to avoid this whole time. After all, you’re still only in your late twenties and even if you’ve crossed some things off of your bucket list—there were still pages you’ve yet to even flip through.

Life, to you, is a constant work in progress; all you’ve known were only beginnings but the reality is there is still never an end. From the second you opened your eyes and sucked in your first breath of air, day by day you continue to leave a mark in the world.

The stories you’ve scribbled in paper, the secrets you’ve whispered to willing ears, photographs of your claim in that snapshot of the world, and the connections you’ve made—those are the things that last and remain even after you’ve gone to cross new horizons.

Life—much like yourself will _always_ just be a work in progress.

* * *

Whether it be the ink on your skin that’s yet to be connected to another work of art or waking up to a new morning wondering how differently Atsumu’s hair will look curled around your fingers this time.

Every day that you spent watching the sun rising and setting in his eyes _never_ failed to leave you breathless.

-

It shouldn’t have surprised you when Atsumu adjusted himself with the beat of your life quite naturally. After reconnecting in the airport, Tetsurou didn’t even have to sit you down to talk to you about his reappearance in your life.

 _Literally,_ after Bokuto landed, he left the airport that day without you and texted you that this was your chance to go home with, as Tetsurou said in verbatim, your “ _long lost love.”_

According to him, after showing up in your weekly dinners at Kenma with Atsumu trailing behind you—that it was _all_ part of his plan for he was _the best_ wing man you could ever ask for.

After that self-proclamation, you and Kenma responded to his statement by simultaneously rolling your eyes. Atsumu, beside you, was apparently polite enough to laugh. Tetsurou was quick to stride over to him, clap him on the back of the shoulder and declare, “You both suck, but at least Miya-san has enough taste to recognize my _genius_ work.”

“Please,” Atsumu laughed and clapped Tetsurou on the shoulder, “Atsumu is just fine.” From your place in the table, you smiled at Atsumu beaming up at Tetsurou, with your best friend returning the same energy.

“I think they’ll get along.” Kenma says and you smile, feeling your heart swell.

“They will,” you reply, and in return Kenma smiles because the both of you truly believe your words.

-

There were still moments you see Tetsurou break down. Eventually the ink climbs up higher and higher on his shoulders until you eventually see it peeking above the collar of his shirts. You have half the mind to ask, but at the same time, when Atsumu drapes his hands over your shoulders and you spot Tetsurou look away and bark out another joke—you decide against it.

“Are you happy?” Tetsurou asked you one day and you could almost laugh at how ironic the setting was. The two of you, along with Kenma had gone with Atsumu and the rest of MSBY in their team trip to a lake house ways from the city.

He asked that question when you joined him on the balcony one morning, a mug of coffee outstretched in offering to him. If it wasn’t for the morning fog clouding your hazy thoughts, you figured you would have caught on a lot quicker than you did—but at the moment, all you could think about was how warm Atsumu’s jacket was wrapped around you and how the roots of his natural hair were starting to peek through from what you observed earlier that morning.

Tetsurou smiled a thank you at the mug of coffee you offered him and motioned for you to take a seat next to him. He doesn’t ask the question again, but you spend the next few minutes of silence mulling about how the morning air brought bouts of nostalgia.

“I’m really happy, Tetsu.” You say and look at him, and you suddenly feel a little choked up. You blame the cold air for the blur in your eyes because when he smiles and wraps the blanket around him tighter while taking slow sips of his coffee you suddenly remember the moment you fell in love with him all those years ago.

In the solitude of the early hours, you’re brought back to the world from more than ten years ago and see the boy who spent his mornings with you through the pixilation of a computer screen. Your heart still beats with a fondness only attributed for him, but you suppose even the rhythm doesn’t flow the same way—you still love him.

And when he opens his eyes, red and teary and cheeks flushed, the fondness in his voice is as familiar as it had _always_ been, “I’m glad, (y/n).”

You sniffle because even if you only exchanged the minimal words, you know the both of you understood everything lingering in the unspoken.

“Are you happy though?” you ask and knock your shoulder against his.

“I am, for you, I always am happy.” He says and laughs when you smack his shoulder a little harder this time in retort. “I meant _you,_ dumbass. Are _you_ happy?”

He laughs, sniffling and turning away from you.

“I love you.” He says, and before you could voice out your confusion he turns to you with a teasing glint in his eyes, “I began to tell myself that every day.”

You roll your eyes remembering your words from the balcony that one night. “Oh _god,_ don’t just quote me.”

“I mean it!” he says and laughs along with you.

You think the two of you must look a little silly, crying at seven in the morning and laughing over your heartaches you endured some years ago, but your relationship with Tetsurou ran deeper than the norm, so you guess you don’t mind.

“Tetsu, I really want you to be happy.” You finally say, and you hope the softness in your tone reaches him.

Tetsurou looks at you in the way that’s sincere because he sighs into the air with a smile and wraps a hand around your shoulder—pulling you in for a half hug. You set your mug down to the side and wrap your own arms around his frame, burying your face in his chest.

He feels warm and you don’t come to mind his chin resting on top of your head.

“Happiness is a work in progress, I’ll get there in time. But I’m always facing to walk in that direction.”

“Promise?” you ask, and he pulls from you to look you straight in the eye.

Though before he opened his mouth to reply, the finality in his eyes quelled your worries.

He didn’t need to say _promise_ because you were more than sure he was going to get there.

-

Miya Atsumu was someone who came into your life in a whirlwind of all the things you considered to be the most beautiful.

He’s a human being; far from perfection just as you were, but then again, the word _perfection_ had always been subjective. Not a day passed by where you didn’t tell him _thank you_ for always being patient. He dealt with his demons just as you had but like the certainty of those very demons coming and going in your life, the grip in his hand holding yours was just as steadfast and un moving.

Atsumu would be the one to tell you to bite your hand and push through it when you had no other option but walk through hell itself, but also in contrast, he would be the one to lay with you in the silence and rub circles on your back telling you to cry out whatever was hurting you.

He’d crack a couple jokes in between your sobs, and kiss your eyelids despite you telling him _no_ and that your tears will taste _gross_.

You, on the other hand was always the one he came home to and your arms being opened was a constant whether he celebrated a victory or a loss.

Whether he’d cry because his service ace was the winning point, or cry because he felt _second best_ , time and time again Atsumu would tell you his _thank you_ for the presence through it all.

And when he tells you an _I love you_ every day with the sun rising and setting as the witness, you know he means it just as he knows the sincerity he’s always found the comfort in with yours.

“Are you happy?” he asked you on your third year together and you could almost laugh at the parallels you’re begging to see with the conversation you had with Tetsurou some time ago.

“Really happy.” You reply and lace your fingers through his.

“With me?” he asks and smiles when you swing your joined hands back and forth. “With us.” You reply and lean forward to kiss his cheek.

Atsumu laughs and tugs you to walk with him ankle deep in the water. “This kinda feels familiar,” he comments and you laugh because it does. You mean it’s familiar because déjà vu is nudging at you and also because the both of you had found yourselves in a quiet stretch of beach along the coasts of Okinawa.

It wasn’t Siargao in the Philippines this time, and you could understand the distant chatter of Japanese in the background opposed to the dialect spoken in the Philippines those years ago, but it was the light of the setting sun peaking in Atsumu’s eyes that had you grinning ear to ear because this was your favorite part of the day.

When the both of you are a little over ankle deep in the water Atsumu releases your hand and points to the horizon on the western side of the world.

You turn and smile because he’s pointing to the sunset. Closing your eyes you, breathe in and breathe out—then smile because it wasn’t shaky. Briefly, you think of Tetsurou and what he could be doing this time in Tokyo—and smile again because he’s probably over at Kenma’s for movie night yelling into a TV and chucking popcorn in the air. You think about the new dating app he downloaded on his phone that he showed you the other day and chuckle to yourself in a way that had you feeling giddy.

And so when you open your eyes and look at the western horizon, you shift your body to turn to Atsumu; you prefer looking at the setting sun’s painting from his eyes, anyway.

But you stop in your tracks because he’s grinning at you and then biting his lip in nervousness. You laugh, automatically choked up because he’s down on one knee with a ring in his hand.

“(Y/n),” he begins, but you don’t let him finish because as you’re staring into his eyes and see the sparks of orange and red reflected you’re suddenly throwing your arms on his shoulder and kneeling down with him.

“W-wait!” he protests, but laughs along with you, “—for _god’s sake_ let me propose properly.”

You continue to laugh, even as you feel streams of tears rolling down your cheeks. Pulling away from him you grab his face in between your hands and wipe the tears rolling down his cheeks with your thumbs.

“Will you marry me?” he asks, but you know it’s not much of a question because he doesn’t wait for you to answer since he’s kissing the palm of your hand and sliding the ring on your finger before you open your mouth to speak.

“I had a whole speech prepared,” Atsumu whines, sniffling when you laugh at him and hold his face in between your hands again.

You could cry because it truly _does_ feel like déjà vu, because the sunset reflected in his eyes look just like that very sunset you could still remember on that day you feel in love with him all those years ago.

The water in Okinawa is not as warm as the water in the Philippines, and the water soaking your dress is a little uncomfortable like the sand digging in your knees, but with Atsumu being in front of you crying along to the comments you’re sharing back and forth with him—you know you wouldn’t have it any other way.

-

“You know if I closed my eyes and this playlist wasn’t shitty, I could just pretend this our wedding.”

You roll your eyes, biting back a comment and let out a laugh instead. “Atsumu was in charge of the playlist. I told him to make the vibe uniform but he probably ignored everything after _Atsumu make the playlist._ ”

Tetsurou snickers and squeezes your hand in his, while the other that’s resting on the back of your waist pulls you along to the sway of the music. You smile and lightly knock his chest with your hand that’s resting on his chest.

“Don’t tell him I’m trashing your wedding music.”

“He’ll laugh along with you,” you reply softly.

“Oi, Tetsurou!” Atsumu calls from the background; the two of you turn to face him, you greeting him with a slight wave and a wink while Tetsurou opts to shoot him a thumbs up and a smile.

“Stop tryin’ to steal my wife.”

Tetsurou laughs at your husband’s halfhearted warning, “She’s not really my type!”

“Damn straight.” Atsumu laughs, then turns towards the conversation he was having with Osamu.

“Why did it feel like my husband is trying to devalue me?” You snort and Tetsurou laughs because he knows you’re only joking.

“He trusts you and knows he can’t get rid of me that’s why.”

“Fair point,” you smile, agreeing.

“Hey Tetsu,” you say slowly, looking at him. He hums in response and looks at you with a smile mirroring your own.

“Thank you.”

He doesn’t ask you what you mean by the _thank you_ and you smile in appreciation because you know the message was delivered without a hitch. So the two of you continue to dance in circles, with Tetsurou snorting every time the music in Atsumu’s playlist got progressively more “ _country”_ as he dubbed it.

“We should write a book about this someday.” You quip and he nods, “Hell yeah, as long as I’m written as a super buff guy.”

_Thank you for being my first love._

“I mean sure,” you reply, “but when Atsumu comes into the story he’s obviously more buff. It’s just canon like that.” Tetsurou huffs, turning his head away in exaggeration.

_Thank you for breaking my heart but still leaving breakfast for me that morning._

“My character needs to have some really cool quotes though,” Tetsurou negotiates and you laugh out a _sure, what do you got_ , before he replies, “If your goals don’t scare you, they’re not big enough.” You throw your head back and laugh. “That doesn’t even make sense, but sure, we can work that in.”

_Thank you for being my best friend above everything that’s happened. Thank you for accepting Atsumu._

“Wait I have another quote,” he offers and you nod for him to continue. Tetsurou smiles at you, his eyes dazzling under the night sky’s stars and the venue’s fairy lights. “He loved her enough to let her go.”

You fall silent and the urge to suddenly cry hits you. Tetsurou smiles and spins you around until you’re face to face with Atsumu, who’s staring at you with a knowing and gentle smile from across the room.

You turn to face him and the tears well up even more at the feeling of déjà vu gnawing at your chest. It doesn’t hurt in a bad way because you know the _both_ of you are heading in the right direction this time. Tetsurou smiles and tells you, “Love you, dumbass.” before you feel Atsumu’s hand take yours.

“I’m proud of the both of you.” Atsumu whispers, kissing the corner of your temple.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the protective husband?” you laugh.

“I know he’s a special person in your life, and I’m thankful for him everyday too because him being dumb enough not to love you led to us.” Atsumu replies, laughing along with you.

“Tsumu!”

“Kiddin.”

Resting your cheek on Atsumu’s shoulder, the two of you continue to move in slower circles. You meet Tetsurou’s gaze from your spot in the room and smile when he flashes you a thumbs up.

 _Thank you,_ Tetsurou thinks when he feels déjà vu nudging his heart. The dull of his heart thrumming doesn’t ache this time so he smiles towards you again and thinks of the baby’s breath tattoo he got the night inked on the left side of his chest.

When you turn and Atsumu meets his gaze, he gives the blonde a solid nod and another thumbs up.

_Thank you for letting me love and let you go, (y/n)._

_-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i may do a drabble series in this AU with no particular timeline, but it'll be posted on my tumblr!


	4. EXTRA: Before The Sun Sets, The Sun Rises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the mornings Atsumu spends with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bonus!! :D ik i said pt 2 was final but SIKEEEEEEEEE
> 
> This is from Atsumu's point of view. <3

“ _Discover me._ ” You’d say before you grin and turn your head.

You’d face the sea on your right first to look,

second to gaze—

and third I’d watch as you sit still and _stare._

You said you loved the sunrises.

The four a.m. drives,

wool gray sweaters,

tousled black hair,

and the colors in the sky.

Then like clockwork, the waves would _woosh,_

the air would still—

and you’d turn straight ahead towards the skyline that lay east,

your lips some days pressing into a line, though today it melted to a smile.

A sad smile.

Then our breaths would hitch—

in tune with the heavens as the first lights of the sun rising peaked in your eyes:

the browns of a living earth lit into a fiery hazel,

and you would smile—

and _every time_ it spoke of your peace.

So in the rare moments such as this,

in this silence,

in _our_ solitude,

with the sun as _our_ witness—

I choose to love you the most.

“ _I discovered you.”_ I’d reply.

Though you never seemed to hear.

Through your sadness, I knew you loved the sunrise not because of its colors—

but because of its memory.

It told you the old stories of a boy you loved:

the one with tousled black hair, and golden eyes,

who would wrap you in a gray wool sweater and drive around a silent city until the sun rises.

Of times where you chose to love,

despite his silence,

despite _his_ solitude.

“ _I discovered you, (y/n).”_ I’d think again.

And I want to reach out to say it—

but you turn your head away from me every single time.

And I know you don’t do it to look at the horizon again—

you turn away because the hue of my eyes never mirrored the golds of his.

And like the fool I am,

I still watch you every time.

You watch the sunrise to momentarily drown yourself in the memory of another—

while I watch the sunrise to have been found in you, my love:

every time.

For as long as the sun ignites the browns of _my earth_ into a _fiery hazel._

So in this silence, and in this solitude—

these are still the moments where I choose to love you the most.


End file.
